


Werewolf-sitting

by sailsandanchors



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anon - Freeform, F/F, Tumblr request, small raft love, use of weird-ass druid potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailsandanchors/pseuds/sailsandanchors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cora is injured and Deaton gives her something definitely not approved by the FDA. Lydia is the lucky lady in charge of looking after her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Werewolf-sitting

It was typical really.

Spending hours of her life helping them formulate a plan only to be left at home, because it wasn’t safe for her. In addition to being side-lined since they had no idea what to do with her powers, nine times out of ten she was in charge of the special snowflake that decided that waiting for a plan was stupid and so had ended up on the verge of death.

Since Stiles had appointed himself driver, she was the only one left there to prevent them from limping their way to the others, because nobody came to the realization that their open wounds weren’t exactly an essential addition to the battlefield.

Damn werewolves.

Now, she didn’t mind the staying behind part. It was the taking care of mopey, bruised werewolves element of the whole operation that made her roll her eyes.

Speaking of eye-rolls this time it had been Cora’s turn to be stupid and take herself out.

Derek had kissed his baby sister’s forehead and they all left, looking far more exited at the prospect of bloodshed than they had any right to be. Meanwhile it was a Friday night and she was stuck there.

Lydia was dreading every minute of it.

Cora had a habit of doing whatever she damn well pleased and didn’t seem to care for her that much. She scowled and made a little rumbling noise, Lydia was sure was a growl, every time Lydia voiced her opinion on something. It didn’t matter how good an idea was, it was never too good for an eye-roll.

Oh, that Hale charm.

This was going to be a nightmare.

Derek had assured her that with Deaton’s new pain relief prescription his sister would be calm and docile. She didn’t keep her hopes up since she clearly remembered the last time they had tested out a mystical concoction.

Isaac had been out cold for about a half hour, so she had let her guard down and gone to the kitchen to get a snack. She had to come running back when she heard eagle screeches and a window opening. He had taken all his clothes off and was about to test his non-existent flying abilities.

It wasn’t easy getting him back to bed, especially since he kept flapping his arms, but she somehow figured out that wrapping him in a sheet would confuse and immobilize him. He spent the agonizing hours until everybody returned singing Britney Spears, while she sat on top of him trying her hardest to not to commit werewolf burrito murder.

That was not going to happen again and she would make damn sure of it if she had to chain her to the bed.

That was a very poor choice of words.

She pushed her hair back and sighed.

Cora was tracing the pattern on her pillow case, she didn’t seem to acknowledge the fact that Lydia was in the room.

At least she wasn’t scowling.

Or growling.

Damn it.

She refused to worry about the fact that someone wasn’t growling at her and looked so pale and out of it.

Lydia planted herself on the bed, even as its drowsy current occupant mumbled in protest. It wasn’t her fault that there were no chairs close by and she sure as hell was not going to sit on the floor. She kicked off her heels and drew her legs in, opening the book she had brought along.

Every few pages she would look over to Cora, but her glances become fewer and far apart as nothing changed with the werewolf and her book became more interesting.

Lydia should have known that wouldn’t last.

She felt eyes on her and sighed, tearing herself away from her book.

"What?"

"Why isn’t your hair called orange? It’s not fucking red!" She sat up at this pointing an accusing finger in her general direction.

"You know I think I prefer you when you just glared at me. You being high on whatever unlicensed werewolf pain medication Deaton gave you is making you weirder than usual."

Cora shrugged. “Maybe, but you…” she said crawling closer and waving a finger in her face “haven’t answered my question. Does the great Lydia Martin not know something?” 

"The word didn’t exist for a long time in the English language, so they had to compromise."

"Really?" She hummed.

Then suddenly she was right in front of her, the standard werewolf lack of appreciation for personal space very present.

"That makes sense." Cora muttered and Lydia had the creeping suspicion that she was sniffing her hair.

"It’s really soft." She said pulling at a strand and bringing it closer to her face for further examination.

Then Cora giggled.

That was not a good sign.

Hales.

Did.

Not.

Giggle.

"So pretty!" she exclaimed to a wide-eyed Lydia who was caught between wanting to get her camera out and running out the building. She settled for measuring the distance between the bed and the window and placing a hand carefully on Cora’s shoulder.

Instead of wolfing out or even being annoyed with her, she just curled up against her, her head buried in the crook of Lydia’s neck like it belonged there.

"You smell nice." she mumbled, her breath sending shivers down Lydia’s spine.

Without any warning she proceeded to fling herself down on the bed again, groaning slightly as her bruised body hit the sheets. She stretched her arms over her head, and her shirt inched up revealing scarred skin that moved over toned muscles.

Lydia cleared her throat.

"Are you okay?" Cora asked dreamily.

"Just peachy!" Lydia said in a strained voice.

"Well your heart rate’s up. Bump bump bump bump." Cora sang flatly, following every "bump" with a flourish of her fingers.

"I…" Lydia didn’t have a response to that.

"It means you’re lying, or you’re scared, or…"

Lydia held her breath.

"Or you’re scared of lying!" she said, sitting up again with a triumphant look on her face.

Lydia stared at her and pursed her lips. She did not have time for this.

"Are you angry with me?" Cora asked, propping herself on her elbows and stretching her legs.

"No, I’m angry with your brother."

"He trusts you." Cora said and it sounded slightly more like her normal self. Lydia didn't want to get her hopes up.

"I trust him too." Lydia said with a shrug. "We've stopped planning to murder each other. That helped. By Beacon Hills’ standards we’re friends."

"Do you trust me?"

Cora suddenly seemed very interested in looking at the water stain on the ceiling even though it felt like her entire body was straining to hear the answer.

"I don’t know." Lydia said and tilted her head, the thought tugging at her.

"I want you to." Cora said softly. She was looking straight at her now, her expression unreadable.

"You don’t exactly make it easy for me." Lydia said, narrowing her eyes.

"I’m kind of an asshole, yeah. Sorry about that. I just…" She laughed.

"What?"

"I don’t deal well with rejection." she said looking at that damn water stain again.

"I never…"

Cora stopped her. “You would.” She said with a resigned shrug.

Then the door slid open and a bloodied and exhausted team made its way through.

Lydia could scream at their timing and Cora’s obliviousness.


End file.
